I'll Try to Save the World
by Aralechan2000
Summary: Michelle has been noticing her friends and her appearing in old photos or history books. It can't be them, so who are these people? She has to find out, but the threat of an impending World War, nightmares, and her hearing voices isn't helping. All this might lead to something bigger- who knows, this threat is big,but she just might end up saving the world. Isn't this a bit much?


Michelle reached up and selected a dusty volume from one of the International Elite School library's many high shelves. She tucked it under her arm and hopped off the ladder to the ground. It was the end of the month and that meant, for her history class, that there was one heckuva long paper about some dusty old battle to be written. She didn't really mind though, History was her favorite subject. Somehow, the words and pictures leapt to life around her, engrossing them in their tales.

She sat down at a long wooden table, accompanied by a huddle of students at the far end. The history volume in front of her looked thick with promise and she shivered with anticipation. She opened to the front page and looked carefully for the small publish date. Her Language Arts teacher always warned about the danger of out of date information and even though Michelle wasn't sure if it applied to history, she checked anyway; she wanted a good grade. The tiny letters and numbers leapt up to greet her. Copyright 2051. _So old, _she mused,_ almost ninety years_. She vaguely wondered why the library had kept it.

Dismissing the thought, she turned to the index, then to the thick chapter about World War II: the subject of her paper. Puffs of dust flew up from the yellowed pages like soot sprites and floated in the grayish light of the stormy weather outside the tall windows. Her eyes scanned the faded pictures greedily; she loved staring at the women's flawless faces and skirts, or the men standing proudly in front of their machines. When she looked at them a melancholy, wistful nostalgia fluttered up from the bottom of her stomach. She shifted her focus to the miniscule print and engrossed herself in the history, occasionally jotting notes, but mostly losing herself completely into the past.

As the bombs fell fast and many on Britain, a crack of thunder shook the clouds. Michelle shrieked and dropped the book to the floor with a loud thump. The reproachful face of a librarian appeared from behind a shelf and shushed her. Michelle offered an unenthusiastic apology and picked up the heavy tome from the floor. She dropped it unceremoniously on the table, and it fluttered open to the last page. The only thing on the page was a neutral photograph of two young men shaking hands. One was shorter and had shiny black hair. He stood with perfect posture, but something about him seemed prickled and resentful. Michelle stared at his face, but it had been mauled and distorted by an angry scar. She shivered and focused on the second man. He was taller with caramel hair, sparkling blue eyes, glasses, and a piece of hair sticking up in the front. A tiny, smug smile hid in his eyes, behind a sympathetic expression. Michelle squinted at his face; he looked so familiar, almost exactly like-

"Alfred F. Jones!" Michelle whipped her head around to see the spitting image of the man in the book- minus the aviator jacket- hanging around the neck of a smaller, bushy-eyebrowed teen who was valiantly trying to study: Arthur Kirkland. "Will you get off of me?!"

"That's what she said," laughed a platinum blonde with red eyes (those must be contacts- right?), standing behind them.

Arthur sputtered and turned red, but Alfred laughed and stood up straight, brushing off his blue-plaid uniform pants, "Seriously, Iggy, you need to lighten up, bro."

"I'll lighten up when you leave me alone and let me study!"

_Oh, sure, the librarian hears me drop a book, but not this, _thought Michelle, rolling her eyes and twisting a long, coffee colored pigtail. She stood up and walked to the end of the table, where a shouting match was ensuing. Alfred's cheerful disposition had disappeared and transformed into a sneering temper; Arthur was leaning forward with his hands clenched tightly at his side and Michelle could see the beginnings of tears forming in the corner of his eyes. The lighting flashes threw sharp shadows on their angry faces.

With a sigh, she stepped between the two friends- or possibly ex-friends after this episode, "That's enough you two," she said. Alfred took a step back and blinked, and just like that- poof!- old happy-go-lucky Alfred was back.

"Hey, Mitchy, what're you doing here?" asked Alfred with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and smiled, "Well, I was _trying_ to write my paper, but I can't with this racket going on."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly sticking out his tongue.

"Well, never mind that now, I need to borrow Iggy," she said, looping her arm through that of the other boy who had been standing quietly beside them until that point. Alfred's face fell and he turned in the direction of the door.

"Yeah, whatever, see ya later dudes," with a lazy wave, he stalked out. Arthur let out an annoyed sigh and sat down next two Michelle, who had by now led him down to her history book.

"Sooooo-" Michelle wiggled her eyebrows at her friend.

"Don't even start with me, Michelle," he said, slumping forward onto the mahogany. "Just what is it you want?"

"Oh, right, sorry," she turned her focus to the book and pointed to the Alfred-doppelganger. "You've known Alfred longer than anyone else, is this him?"

Arthur stared at the page, "It does look like him, but I can't make out the details very well. Would you happen to have a magnifying glass?" he held his hands out in the general size of the instrument.

Michelle snorted, "What are you, Sherlock Holmes?"

"Oh, do shut up," he stood up. "I don't know how it could be; this book must have been printed before we were born. How would they get a picture of him?" he turned to leave.

_Yeah, you're right. How could it be him? After all, this book is ancient;_ she thought firmly, _this is just a freaky coincidence. _She stood up, shoved the large book into her book bag, and headed out of the warm library into the windy storm. She held her bag over her head and charged out into the pouring rain, sprinting the hundred-or-so meters to her dorm. She reached the heavy oak doors and flung herself in, shaking her hair like a model in a commercial. Or a dog, however you choose to see it.

She climbed the spiral staircase of the empty common room to the second floor with all the girl dorm rooms. She unlocked her room and sat her bag down next to her bed. Her roommate- a quiet first year with short, blond hair named Lili- sat at a table in the corner, pressing flowers and listening to the radio.

"Oh, hello, Michelle," she said with a smile and a tilt of her head. "It really is storming, isn't it?" she said, almost admiringly. As if on cue, the thunder rumbled impressively.

"Mmhm," said Michelle, changing into her pajamas, and flopping down on her own four poster bed, "I'm surprised I wasn't electrocuted."

Lili giggled slightly, and returned to her flowers. The radio filled the silence, albeit a bit forebodingly.

_". . .'s President is threatening to cut off all trade . . . attack launched yesterday, resulting in hundreds of deaths. . .I don't know, Jim, the global economy is in bad shape, you know, just the other day. . .on top of it all, the threat of war from. . ."_

Static screeched violently and Michelle covered her ears, but secretly, she was relieved. Anything that blocked out all the horrible news was just fine with her. And then, out of the static, loud and clear:

_"This could be World War IIII."_

And then, like a sylph or a shadow left behind from the noise: _Last time they all disappeared. What about this time?_

"That's enough!" Michelle snapped. She lunged forward and flicked off the radio.

"Yes, I quite agree. That was quite sad," mumbled Lili. Silence rang out uncomfortably.

"Wait, Lili, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's fine, we need our sleep anyway," said Lili, abandoning her work and slipping between her bed sheets. She flicked off her lamp and rolled over. "Good night, Michelle."

Michelle copied her actions, "Yeah, good night," she said, drifting off into an uneasy sleep, dream-filled and hellish.

**A/N: This is my first Hetalia story and I'm so excited! Squeee!**

**Just what I need- another , I got this idea and I had to write it! Please tell me what you think, and if I should keep writing this. Thanks for reading.**

**I, of course, own Hetalia not! So, anyway…**

**ARALE OUT, MY CHILDREN, MWAH!**


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